Like a modern, more existential version of Oliver I feel the urge to subjugate myself in front of the provider of life experience and say, "Please Sir (or Madam as I assume that the offices of higher powers are equal opportunity establishments nowadays), may I have some more"?
"MORE"? He slash she will scream in an affronted fashion as though the standard daily grind should be sufficient to fulfil the needs of us mere mortals, the request of further magnanimity being an affront to higher beings everywhere.
And I shall shuffle back into the crowd, chastened.
But you've got to pick a pocket or two. Wise words for those who wish to explore the ragged and sometimes rusty edge of life. For those who want to taste tic tacs in other flavours.
Actually the spearmint is a little iffy too.
Seneca was a Roman philosopher who was a bit of a stoic. Live every day as it were your last sort of thing, but not in a good way. He was more of the, 'Well you're gonna get hit by a bus sooner or later so get ready', rather than the 'eat drink and be merry for tomorrow we may die', point of view. My mother in law was talking about someone she knows who is ill at the moment when we were at a family gathering the other day, and she came up with the standard 'live every day as though it were your last' quote.
I burst into tears, hugged everyone in the room and told them I was too young to die. She begged to differ.
My dilemma? Should I lean to the more Epicurean side of philosophy, carrying on the the Oliver and bowl metaphor, or should I lean more to the puritanical moral arguments of philosophers such as Locke, Hobbes and Kant?
In short, do I decorate the nursery with toys, games and sparkly things, or do I begin the process of teaching reality as defined by moral standards found in drab western theology and philosophy from day one.
The batteries have to be cheaper than the therapy.